


Ghosts and Memories

by watcherofworlds



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Echoes of Clara Oswin Oswald, F/M, welcome to rarepair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: Clara shouldn't remember anything from the lives of her echoes. But there's a face she can't get out of her head, a face she's sure she's never seen in her own life.





	Ghosts and Memories

Clara sat on the steps in the TARDIS’ main control room, watching the Doctor bounce around it like a pinball, keeping up a constant stream of chatter about where they were traveling to next. 

“Clara?” he asked, suddenly still, studying her with his head cocked to one side, apparently noticing her lack of response to his antics. “Are you alright?” Clara shook her head.

“There’s this...face,” she said hesitantly, “that I can’t get out of my head. And I’m sure, I’m  _ sure _ , that it’s not the face of anyone I’ve ever met, but…it seems so familiar, somehow.”

“Here,” the Doctor replied, his voice eager, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her to her feet. He dragged her, mostly unwillingly, over to the telepathic circuit on the TARDIS’ control board and shoved her hand into it.

“Now,” he said, still sounding like a child with a new toy, “I need you to-”

“Focus,” Clara cut in impatiently. “Yes, Doctor. I know. I have done this before, you know.” The Doctor shrugged and smiled sheepishly and reached around her to grab one of the view screens around the center console and pull it in front of them. Once it was in place, he looked over at Clara expectantly. She sighed and closed her eyes, all the while thinking that she wouldn’t need to focus all that hard, since she couldn’t get that damn face, whoever’s it was, out of her mind. A few moments later, she opened her eyes to see a familiar image on the viewscreen. She found herself mentally cataloging every detail of the face in front of her- the blue eyes that glinted with humor, the neatly combed dark brown hair, the devil-may-care smile, the knife sharp jawline. 

“I know him,” the Doctor said, in the same offhand manner  that he might have told her that he knew Shakespeare or Queen Elizabeth the First. “Well, not personally. But I know of him.”

“Why?” Clara asked. “Who is he?”

“We all leave ripples in time,” the Doctor replied. “But he”- he jabbed a finger at the screen- “he leaves waves.” Clara noticed that he hadn’t answered her second question.

“Doctor,” she snapped. “ _ Who is he _ ?”

“Like I said, I don’t know him personally,” the Doctor said, “so I can’t really properly answer that question. But I do know someone who can.” He resumed his usual level of frantic activity, running around the control board, flicking switches, smacking buttons, yanking down levers, sometimes having to jump to reach them properly. It wasn’t long before Clara sensed that the TARDIS had landed, though where she couldn’t be sure.

“Welcome to Cardiff,” the Doctor announced, opening the door with a flourish.

“What are we doing in Cardiff?” Clara asked, walking past him out the now open door.

“You’ll see,” the Doctor replied cryptically, following her out and closing the door behind him, his tone cheery.

Clara followed after him as he set off through the streets of Cardiff, jogging to keep up with his longer strides. She was surprised when he finally came to a stop outside a dingy looking dive bar, the kind of place she would never set foot in if she could help it. She wondered at the Doctor’s motives- he would stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this- but he was already moving through the door, and she had no choice but to follow after him.

“Oi, Jack!” the Doctor called as he strode inside, catching the attention of dark haired man in a long blue-grey coat seated at the bar.

“Doctor,” he greeted him enthusiatically, blinking blearily at the pair of them. He was quite obviously drunk, and Clara resisted the urge to shift away when his gaze landed on her. “Last time I saw you you had a different face.”

“Yes, well, we can talk about that later,” the Doctor said briskly. “Jack, this is Clara. Clara, this is Jack Harkness.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jack said, making a drunken attempt at a flirtatious smile.

“Likewise,” Clara said, though her tone was blunt and made it clear that she didn’t mean it. Jack frowned.

“We need your help, Jack,” the Doctor said, drawing his attention away from Clara’s slight. “Or, more specifically, Clara does. She needs you to tell everything you know about this man.” He reached into his pocket for the picture of him that he’d managed to fix on psychic paper before Clara could protest that she was perfectly capable of speaking for herself. Jack squinted at the picture.

“That’s James Barnes,” he said, “though he preferred to be called Bucky. He was a sergeant in the 107th. His unit and mine did a mission together right about the middle of the war. Nice fellow. He was best friends with his unit’s commander, a guy named Steve. The three of us hit it off pretty well, though Bucky wouldn’t stop talking about this girl he had back home. Connie, I think her name was.” Clara was suddenly flooded with memories, of New York, of Bucky, of kissing him, holding hands with him, going to a science convention with him the night before he shipped out. She stumbled backwards, reaching a hand out behind her to steady herself against the bar.

“Clara?” the Doctor asked. “Are you alright?” Clara shook her head, feeling weak and shaky.

“Connie…” she said. “I’m her, or she’s me, and she knew James Barnes. I think...I think they dated. Connie’s one of my echoes.” The Doctor frowned.

“You shouldn’t remember anything from the lives of your echoes,” he said worriedly. “I took those memories out of your head because otherwise the collective noise of all of those lives stacked on top of each other would have killed you.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Clara said, somehow finding the energy to be short with him amidst her weakness and confusion. “But for some reason, James, or Bucky, or whatever he called himself, is stuck in my head. I guess you missed something.” She rapped herself sharply on the forehead with the heel of her hand, as if that would shake loose the memories that didn’t belong to her. The Doctor was still frowning.

“We should return to the TARDIS,” he said abruptly. “We need to figure this out, and fast.” Even through her haze, Clara understood that what the Doctor hadn’t said was “Before you go insane”, and that “figure this out” meant “Track James Barnes in time and shake him down for answers.” The thought of the Doctor shaking anyone down for anything made her giggle, earning her more concerned looks thrown her way.

The Doctor had her by the wrist and was dragging her out the door before she’d even realized that they were moving. He set a breakneck pace back in the direction they’d come. Clara tripped and stumbled after him, occasionally muttering some very unladylike curses. The Doctor kept on throwing looks her way, his brow creased with worry, as he prepped the TARDIS for takeoff, but for the most part they ignored each other, each of them lost in their own separate little world of questions that seemed to have no answers.


End file.
